Those Open Hands
by MissJEDoe
Summary: Darcy is dead, so Julia's left to do... what? Anything she wants, but that means knowing what she wants. Sequel to Those Shaking Hands, so you should probably read that first. Or practise your detective skills by tying to piece together what the doodle happened before all this.
1. Those Open Hands Part 1

The next day would prove to be almost as difficult as the last.

Julia was having a bad 1900. On top of being a murderers target and watching her husband die, she'd somehow managed to find herself staying in Mrs Kitchen's house - unplanned - two nights in a row.

Whereas last night she had been hysterical and therefore excused, the same couldn't be said for the morning of the second of January.

Julian Ogden awoke in a bed that ought to be unfamiliar to her, but was comforting like an old friend. Strething, she noticed that she was alone and rather exposed.

A moment of panic flushed her skin as she scrambled to cover herself with the tangled bedsheets. The borrowed man's shirt she was wearing barely covered her body, leavin her legs open to viewing for anyone who walked into the room - especially in the ungainly way she slept!

Satisfied that she was half-decent, she sat up and scoured the room for signs she'd been left alone. And sure enough, the pair of men's shoes had been moved from where she'd last seen them. Further study revealed that the men's clothes had also gone from their last place - a hastily assembled heap on top of a chair.

Julia smiled to herself and reached to turn the small bedside clock around to face her. A rush of blood and happines flew to her cheeks.

The small note was balancing precariously in front of the clock face, written in tiny handwriting."I'll return to you at midday. Beware of Mrs Kitchen."

The clock showed that she still had over two hours to wait, so Julia decided to get dressed and explore William's room,


	2. Those Open Hands Part 2

William stared at the incomplete form, mind wandering too far to read the simple yes/no questions.

Last night had been a dream. Julia, sitting in his little kitchen less than twenty four hours after watching Darcy get shot, drinking tea and laughing with him. Julia finally relaxing and falling asleep after the worst day of her life. Relaxing and falling asleep with him.

William cleared his throat, shook his head minutely to clear the haze and stretched his arms. Work to be done.

The clock hanging on his wall told him he still had an hour to wait. He took a deep breath and started to fill in the tedious forms again.

As he was signing his name below the final statements, George knocked on the door of his office. Relieved for an excuse to look away from pages of his own handwriting, he stood up and stumbled towards the door.

George let himself in, seeing that the detective had got himself in a mess. "Steady, sir."

"Ah, George. I've got a bit stiff from sitting still for so long, it seems." William righted himself and smiled at George. "What have you?"

"A Mrs Hughes has reported a robbery and insists that you attend to her, sir. I tried to explain that myself and Higgins are both perfectly competent, but she was having none of it I'm afraid. However," George noticed the paper work on the desk, "I can tell her you're too busy if you need to get these forms done -"

"No, it's okay thank you George." Grabbing the opportunity to do some real police work, William followed George back out of the door, into the main reception.

Few constables were around, but they all seemed to be desperately avoiding the angry old woman by the front desk.

Her hair was blonde, on the brink of turning grey, and twisted up on her head, topped with a shallow hat. Her half-moon spectacles were perpetually sliding down her nose, making her gloved right hand dance between the desk and her face.

"Ah, Detective! About time." She called upon seeing William.

"Good luck, sir. She's a stubborn old brick." George muttered. William knew what he meant: too often, old dears would come into the police station claiming to have been burgled only for it to turn out – after a lot of police time – that they'd simply misplaced that valuable family heirloom.

Hoping this was going to be a more satisfying case.

"My constables tell me that you've been the target of a robbery – do you want to come into my office?" William offered, bowing his head momentarily.

"Not at all. I want you to come with me right away and recover my jewellery!" The old lady was obviously under the impression that there was no paper work involved in policing.

"Of course, Mrs Hughes. But I first need to take down your details – your address, descriptions of the jewellery. And I need to quickly finish the paperwork for a murder case we solved yesterday." Mrs Hughes opened her mouth to complain, but William held up a hand to silence her.

"Please, let me do this first. It won't take me long and then we can get going."

The old lady followed him back into his office silently, head held high. While he finished the forms for Darcy's murder and started a new file for Mrs Hughes, he noticed the clock tick past midday.

A good half an hour later, he was finally ready to leave. But he had to help Mrs Hughes first.

"I'm sorry, Julia." He muttered to himself as he hastily filed the papers. He followed Mrs Hughes out of the police station, dragging George along as he passed him. You never knew when that lad could come in use.

Stepping into the street, William started to face the idea of not being able to rescue Julia from Mrs Kitchen.


	3. Those Open Hands Part 3

Well, it seemed that this was indeed a robbery.

The descriptions Mrs Hughes gave William of her jewellery seemed unbelievable, but upon inspection there really was no jewellery left in her house. And when her neighbour confirmed that she knew of at least half of the jewels Mrs Hughes claimed to own, William was left with no choice other than to treat this as an organised, professional crime.

"The items confirmed by Mr Peterson alone would cost – "

"Hundreds of dollars, I know." William cut him off as Mrs Hughes returned to the room. "Mrs Hughes, we're going to send men around the street asking if anyone saw anything suspicious." Knowing his cue, George tipped his head and left. "Did you leave any windows open last night?"

"Of course." She muttered. "These old rooms get so stuffy at night and I can't breathe."

William closed his eyes momentarily. "Mrs Hughes, wasn't it snowing last night?"

"I suppose it could have been, but I was asleep before ten o'clock. I didn't see any snow."

"And you didn't hear anything during the night? Are you sure?"

"Yes, detective. Haven't I told you enough times? I slept through the night and when I woke up all of my jewellery was gone."

William nodded and apologised, explaining that he had to get everything straight before he could start trying to find the thief.

He excused himself, quickly finding George to tell him he had an errand to run.

"Errand, sir?"

"I promised I'd see Doctor Ogden at lunch time. I'd rather not have to explain to Mrs Hughes."

"I understand, sir. I'll start asking if anyone's seen anything."

"Good work, George." William walked off, slowly at first and then urgently. He was over two hours late. Julia would be devastated.

He jogged around the last corner, bracing himself for the inevitable trouble he was about to find himself in.

He let himself into the house quietly, hardly daring to breathe. He looked around and, seeing no one in the kitchen or living room, crept upstairs.

His bedroom door was still closed, still locked.

He knocked softly, hoping Mrs Kitchen wouldn't hear him. No answer. Wondering whether Julia had given up and left – understandably: he realised that she'd stupidly been left with no food – he found the right key and unlocked the door.

There, sprawled on his bed with her legs exposed, was Julia. A book lay beside her head, closed around her hand from where she'd been reading. Her hair crossed in front of her face, some of it caught in between her pale lips.

William stood in the doorway, watching her chest rise and fall slowly. She was fast asleep, exhausted after the ridiculously busy days she'd had.

After a moment he stepped into his room, closing the door with a quiet click behind him. He tiptoed over to the bedside, taking his hat off and hanging it on the end of the bed as he passed. Julia didn't notice. He knelt down on the floor facing the bed, watching her closed eyes flutter.

Her free hand was inches away from his face. She moved her fingers slightly, taking hold of a small fold of the bed linen. Her nails were short, as normal, but even. They and her hair shone in the light coming into the room from the windows.

William watched her for a moment, considering waking her up. But she needed her rest.

Instead, he made himself comfortable on the floor and carefully took her delicate hand in his.


	4. Those Open Hands Part 4

William opened his eyes and sat up, stretching his aching neck.

He blinked slowly and worked out what had happened. He was still on the floor, holding Julia's hand. He was still in his room. Still had his shoes on.

But the light was different.

William stood up in horror. Never mind different – the light had practically gone. It was definitely later than three pm.

And he'd only planned on being gone for an hour at the most.

He'd left George with Mrs Hughes.

William stared down at Julia in horror. He couldn't just leave her again, but she looked so happy asleep on his bed. The memories of her crying were still very sharp and clear in his mind – surely he should let her spend as much time in blissful sleep as possible?

Sighing, he resolved to leave her. He started to carefully pull his hand from hers, but his fingers appeared to be frozen. Easing hers apart, he freed his hand and stood watching her, flexing his numb hand.

She rolled over, revealing more of her pale legs, and sat up.

"William?"

"I'm over here." He chuckled nervously, trying to keep his eyes away from the long limbs.

"Oh, heavens. I'm sorry." She scrambled for the bed sheet, trying to make herself look slightly presentable. William just smiled at her and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"You know, I tucked you into bed last night. I think I can cope with the sight of a little bare flesh."

Julia's face blushed a bright red. "Yes, well." William tried to not laugh, understanding how embarrassed Julia felt. "What happened last night?"

"You fell asleep. Not that I blame you – it was a very, very long day. You needed your rest."

Julia looked out the window and her face fell. "What time is it?"

"I honestly don't know." He confessed, laughing gently. "But I fell asleep too."

"What?" Julia crossed her arms in front of her chest, self-conscious. "When did you get back?"

"About twenty past two." She raised her eyebrows.

"I was waiting for you."

"I know. A lady reported a robbery and she wouldn't let me go."

"What was her name?"

"Mrs Hughes. I left her with George…" William trailed off as he remembered – again – what he'd done.

"Mrs Hughes? I think Darcy knows her – " Julia's face dropped and the embarrassed red flushed away, leaving her cheeks chalky white.

"Would you like to come with me to apologise for abandoning her to the constables?" William asked softly.

"Perhaps. Oh, wait –!" Julia's hands flew to her forehead. "I promised to phone his parents."

They stared at each other, sharing a moment of despair.

"Oh, bother."

"I'll have to ring them now and apologise."

"I'll be your alibi – We'll say Doctor Grace had to drug you because you were hysterical."

Julia laughed. "I like your thinking, detective. Very sneaky."

William stood up and offered her his hands to help her up. Indecency was forgotten for the moment as she slid from the tangled covers, standing directly in front of William. They stared at each other.

"I can be very sneaky," he said, leaning down towards her cheek. Smiling because he was still holding her hands, he kissed her cheekbone gently.

Leaving her standing there, he let go of her hands and walked towards the door.

"I'm going to go to the police station and see if I can apologise to George. Come and see me when you're ready." He smiled and opened the door, walking into the small corridor. "I'm sure you could use the phone here. And your clothes are in my wardrobe."

Winking, William backed out of the door and closed it with a soft click.

* * *

He walked straight into Mrs Kitchen, who was carrying a small pile of neatly folded towels.

"Tell her that she can help herself to one of these." She said, eyebrows raised. William's heart was racing, despite the cheeky smile on the landlady's lips.

Mrs Kitchen left a couple of towels on the floor by William's door and shuffled off towards her room, leaving a rather pale Detective in her wake.


	5. Those Open Hands Part 5

"George?" Emily looked up from her empty plate and tried to not stare at the small lump of mashed potato on the constable's chin.

"Yes?" George smiled and wiped his hands on the napkin, leaning towards Emily across the table.

Emily hesitated for a moment, torn between starting at his eyes and staring at the potato which was still clinging to his skin. "I'm worried about Doctor Ogden."

George sighed and leant back slightly. "We all are." Some of the light had gone from his voice as he said matter-of-factly, "but it's expected. She just lost her husband."

"I know. I just hoped I'd see her today."

"The Detective seemed a tad off today, too." George mentioned. "He spent forever just filling in the certificates and statements for Dr Garland's case. And then at Mrs Hughes' house he suddenly left and didn't come back. It was awful – I had to convince that lady that we were dedicated to helping her, even though our detective had ran off."

"Did he say where he was going?" The beginnings of a grin were spreading over Emily's lips. Not for nothing had she been trusted at such a young age to assist the police. She knew the answer before George could speak.

"To find Doctor Ogden…" George stared, bewildered, as Emily lost control of her giggles. "What's funny?"

"Nothing, George. I just think it's sweet. That they've finally had time together, away from work."

"You think it's sweet that Doctor Ogden is now a widow?" _Behind a few steps, as always_ Emily thought to herself.

"No, silly. That they're free to be themselves."

George nodded. "It has been too long since the detective's been properly happy. I hope they can finally settle down together and – "

He was interrupted by the waiter who asked them whether they were staying for pudding. The young couple shared a quick look and shook their heads simultaneously.

"Not tonight I don't think. Thank you." George found his money from his pocket and stood up. "Do you want to wait here?"

Emily nodded and watched him walk towards the bar to pay. There were very few people left who were dining out, but a few men still lingered around the bar. Emily watched a dithery old lady walk to the bar and hand something over before quickly leaving and letting in another cold breeze from outside.

_Strange to see such a feeble lady in such a place at such a time_, she thought. However, the exchange seemed harmless enough. Perhaps the man at the bar was her son.

George was back and staring at where the lady had been. "Did you see that old lady?"

"Yes, what of her?" Emily stood up and walked with George to collect their coats.

"I would swear that it was Mrs Hughes."

Emily laughed. "Does it matter?"

"No, I suppose not." George stared after the lady and shook his head. He held his arm out for Emily to take and smiled, leading her out into the cold night.

They walked slowly, enjoying being out in the air despite the chill. Emily walked close to George, leaning heavily on his arm. They trod carefully on the icy road, giggling occasionally if they slipped.

George cleared his throat as they neared Emily's house. It was small and usual, but to George it was as beautiful as the snow around them. Because he knew that she lived there.

"Well, this is me." Emily smiled and turned to face George. She took his hands gently in hers, looking up at him through the dark. "Goodnight, Constable."

"Goodnight, Doctor."

"Thank you for escorting me home and protecting me from the dangers of the ice." She added playfully, quickly reaching up to place a small kiss on his cheek before turning and unlocking the front door.

Although she tried to keep her face hidden, George thought he saw a small smile on her lips.

"You're welcome," he called after her as she disappeared. His breath formed in a small cloud in front of him, where Emily had been a moment earlier. George turned to walk away, putting his hands in his pockets and carefully walking towards his house, adding in a whisper,

"Anytime."


End file.
